


Peanut Butter and Sticking Together

by zaynealt



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Don’t know what that is but if it offends people that of course I’ll tag it, Family Bonding, G slur, homeless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-10-23 17:13:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17687567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zaynealt/pseuds/zaynealt
Summary: Stan lives life on his own and definitely doesn’t need anybody.-Sort of AU where Dipper and Mabel are nine during Stan’s Grifter days.





	Peanut Butter and Sticking Together

You’d be surprised just how convenient peanut butter sandwiches were.

They didn’t cost very much. They didn’t ask much, either. You could go to a grocery store, grab a loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter, and be out of there before they even got a good look at your ID.

You could eat peanut butter sandwiches for every meal of every day, if need be. Or when you’re really low on recourses, you could just have one slice of bread. That’s just what it came to, sometimes.

So that’s why Stan Pines was in the grocery store that night, buying bread at the unholy hour of two A.M.   
Traveling at night was safer in a way. No one paid much attention to you because they were half dead on their feet. When Stan flashed the ratty teenager at the checkout counter with his fake ID, she barely glanced at it, choosing instead to pass judgment on Stan’s hairstyle choice before letting him go.

The corner store doors dinged as he walked backwards to push them open, his arms stuffed with two loaves of bread and a jar or crunchy peanut butter. The night air immediately bit his nose and grabbed his bones. Stan’s boots crunched in the partially frozen dirt. His breath fogged up the cold air as he tramped around the side of the building. And then he heard a sound.

Now, sounds weren’t an uncommon thing to hear on the road. Not by a mile (haha, road joke), but these voices caught Stan’s attention; had him freezing in his tracks and turning to look at the wooded area next to the store.

Arguing. He was hearing arguing.

Now, that made a lot of sense. It was probably some sort of drug deal, a barter on prices, maybe even a guy getting beat up. But that guy wasn’t Stan. And that meant it wasn’t his problem.

He caught a sentence.

“—and it’s freezing! Are you even sure we’ll be okay?!”

He edged a little bit forward. Stan knew better then to go towards possible danger, but, well, he wanted to hear. And he’d never exactly been credited on his common sense.

“No, I’m... I’m not. But that cash we got on Wednesday might pay for bread! Or at least a candy bar,” there was a pause, presumably as the owner of the squeaky voice wistfully imagined owning a candy bar. “I just wanna survive this winter, bro-bro.”

That did it. Stan’s curiosity had peaked. And the owners of the voices sounded young, maybe they were teenagers? They couldn’t possibly hurt him.

Stan rounded the corner to see two small children huddled against the wall of the convenience store, close to the woods. 

One of them had a beanie tugged down over their brown curly hair, and was bundled up in a winter jacket. The other was wearing a fluffy pink sweater and a ratty old backpack.

All three people froze and stared at each other, the children with identical expressions of fear.

“How’s it hanging?” Stan asked nervously. These were children, not teens. Children all alone. What had the world come to?

The little girl made a squeaking sound and burrowed more into her sweater. The boy in the beanie moved his arm in front of her, as if to protect her from Stan.

Two cute little kids. Oh, this was perfect. This was just what Stan needed. No one would say no to faces like these. With their help, he could finally get to his destination in California. People would put good money in his pocket to help little kids. And then, whenever he needed to, he could just drop them off somewhere. Child services could take care of the rest.

“Mabel,” the little boy whispered, “he’s got a big jacket on.”

The little girl who must have been Mabel nodded silently and eyes his pockets with suspicion.

Oh! They- they thought he had a weapon on him. Smart kids, but his knife was in his shoe.  
Wait, weren’t they starving?

“Want some sandwiches?” Stan asked innocently, setting his two loaves and jar on the ground and getting on his knees. Both children backed further against the wall. “You can have some of you get in my car with me.”

“We’d never get in a car with a stranger!” The little boy suddenly yelled, pulling his sister up off the ground and into a standing position.

“Stranger Danger!” Mabel agreed, glaring at him. “Strange men do bad things to little girls!”

Stan winced, a little wounded by the fact that they automatically thought that. But he was nonetheless impressed by the survival skills of two nine-year-olds.

“Okay, here’s the deal. I need cute faces to get a sympathy vote from my friend in California,” Stan grumbled. “If you two come with me I might have a chance. You’d only have to hang out with me for like, a week.” As he spoke, he pulled out a slice of bread and unscrewed his peanut butter jar. The children watched warily, and he was careful to not make any sudden movements. “And I promise not to drop you off with gypsies until then.”

Mabel tugged on her brother’s sleeve gently. “Bro-bro, a moment?”

The two kids turned around (surprising that they would even turn their backs on him, honestly) and whispered loudly for a second. Stan spread the peanut butter on two slices of bread and had them at the ready. His knees were starting to hurt.

The children re-faced him with bold and daring expressions. Ha. Cute.

“We have decided to go with you,” the little boy started, continuing to scowl. “But we haven’t decided to trust you.”

“We’re only going because we have nowhere else to go!” Mabel added, earning an elbow in the side from her brother. She probably wasn’t supposed to reveal that info. It didn’t make much of a difference to Stan.

He held out the peanut butter slices.

Slowly, the two small people edged forward and grabbed the food out of his hands. Mabel shoved it into her mouth immediately, chewing with her mouth open, whilst her brother carefully tasted the bread.

Both of them stared at him warily.

Eventually, they followed him back to the Diablo, which was actually relatively clean right now, and got in the backseat when he opened the door for them.

Stan got in the front, throwing his food into the passenger seat as he started the car. He could hear two solidarity clicks as the kids buckled up their seatbelts.

“Hey, um, mysterious stranger who’s technically kidnapping us?” The little boy asked. Ugh. Were they going to keep talking to him? How annoying.

“I’m Dipper. And this is my sister, Mabel.”

“That’s a messed up name,” Stan responded offhandedly, turning the car out onto the road. He registered in the car mirror that Dipper’s eyes grew very large before he turned away stiffly.

“Well, I want to know what your name is,” the little girl asked forcefully.

“Andrew,” Stan sighed. “Andrew Eightball Alcatraz.”

“That sounds like a stupid name for poop-heads,” Mabel scolded, folding her tiny arms.

“Okay, fine, it’s not my real name,” Stan snapped, his fists clenching on the steering wheel. “You can call me Stan.”

Mabel nodded thoughtfully, placing one hand on her chin. 

“Yes, that sounds right. You look like a Stan.”

A Stan. As in one of many. Or one of two.

Or, maybe, one of a dynamic duo that was never meant to be split up.

“Thanks, kid,” Stan choked out. “You look like a Mabel.”

————————————————————

Mabel was energetic.

It had been three hours and all Stan could understand about these kids is that they were unapologetically energetic. Especially Mabel, who likes to talk about anything and everything she could possibly think of. Her brother had mostly been quiet for the ride, save for the occasional reply to Mabel’s questions, which were surprisingly probing.

“So like, Stan,” Mabel started again, grinning, “have you ever had— a GIRLFRIEND?!”

Ha, ha. She thought she was being funny.

“I’ve had a wife, in fact,” Stan retorted sharply. Mabel gasped.

“Was she pretty?”

“Oh, she was smokin’ hot.”

The little girl giggled into her hands. “What happened to her?”

“Divorce.” Stan said plainly. Mabel stopped smiling abruptly and the car fell silent.

“Well ...how did you two first meet?”

Stan laughed, staring at the highway as the sun started rising.

“Well, the year was nineteen seventy-nine. I was in Vegas.”

“Las Vegas?” Dipper echoed, raising an eyebrow. It’s the most he’s spoken to Stan in hours.

“Yep,” Stan sighed wistfully. “Good ‘ol Vegas. I was looking for a change of pace, and actually had enough money to get there for once.”

~

“Why, hello good sir. I’ll be your waitress today.” 

A gorgeous, tall lady with curly blonde hair pulled a notebook out and smiled at the man in the booth. “What can I get you for a drink?”

“Well, he-llo,” the young man replied, leaning forward on the table. “I’d like one soda please. And get yourself something too.” He winked at the woman, causing her to giggle, and she left.

“Thank you much, lovely lady,” he said as he received his soda. She grinned.

“Well, aren’t you a charmer?” She flipped her wavy blonde hair over her shoulder and glanced coyly at him. “And what might your name be?”

“Forester. Hal Forester,” The man shot two finger guns at his waitress, grinning as some of his curly hair fell into his eyes.

~

“Hal Forester’s just as dumb a name as Andrew Alcatraz,” Mabel complained.

“Just let me tell the story, okay!”

~

“Oh, well, you seem like a man with secrets, Mr. Forester,” the waitress smiled, seating herself across from him. “Mind tellin’ me a few?”

“Oh, anythin’ for a pretty lady,” Hal Forester complimented, ruffling up his long hair.

~

“Well, I guess that was sort of romantic,” Dipper sighed, and Stan realized that he’d been attentively listening the whole time.

“Not to be rude, but, ya can’t exactly pass judgement, kid,” Stan adjusted the mirror so he could see the boy in the backseat. “You’re what, six? Never been in a relationship? Definitely approved for love advice.”

“I’m nine!” Dipper scoffed.

“Yeah, and kind of a nerd. Even I can tell that.”

The little boy frowned and pouted, turning away stiffly.

“I want to get married one day!” Mabel exclaimed, reaching over to grab the back of Stan’s seat. “I’ll wear a pretty dress and have pretty flowers and my marriage will be perfect!”

“Uh huh,” Stan mumbled, because he knew for darn sure that nothing in life was perfect, and fifty percent of marriages didn’t even work out anyway. Kids and their dumb dreams; childish stuff like romance and weddings and cake and boats and sailing—

Stan reached forward to turn the knob on the radio, picking a music station at random and tapping his fingers along to the song. In the backseat, the girl started humming once she got a hang of the tune, which was quite impressive frankly very annoying.

“What time is it, Mr. Stan?” Asked the pink kid from the seat.

“It’s around five thirty, kid. Whaddya want?”

“I’m kind of tired,” she complained, slumping over.

“Well, you’ve been awake all night,” Stan pointed out, looking at her in the rearview mirror, “why don’t you go to sleep?”

And just like that, the kid slumped over, resting her head on her brother’s shoulder. Stan snorted before turning his attention back to the road. They still had a lot of driving to do before they reached California.

And what they would do when they actually got there was still up for decision.

Stan drove in silence for a while. He’d have to sleep at some point, he knew... hopefully he could cross the border into Oregon before then, and then find some spot off the road to stop the Diablo. He couldn’t very well hand the car off to anyone else.

It had started to rain by the time Stan was getting close to the border. He thought carefully to himself about law enforcement in the area and what he could possibly pick up, when there was a sound.

“Mr. Stan?”

Stan flinched. He hadn’t realized the kid was still awake.

“Yeah?”

The boy shifted around so he wasn’t as trapped under his sister.

“I just want you to know,” he started, sounding like he was trying to make his voice big, “that my sister may have decided she likes you, but I haven’t.” The kid’s chest puffed out. “You’re just a random guy who’s taken us in off the street to use us. We can’t be sure you won’t leave us for dead!” He shrunk a little bit after the outburst, but when Stan didn’t react, he kept going. “So... So don’t expect us to trust you or anything!” One of his arms went protectively around the little girl next to him.

And Stan realized what was going on. Kid was worried. He was worried for his sister, and, being the brother he was, he was trying to fight back in order to protect her.

Huh. Look at that.

“You’re right,” Stan agreed bluntly, turning the car onto the next road. “I don’t even have a clue what I’m going to do with you if my friend lets us in. We can’t very well pretend you’re my kids forever. Eventually someone’s gonna ask for proof of some kind.”

He sighed slowly.

“Look. Right now I need you and you need me. And that’s all we’ve got— each other. Most people don’t even have that.”

Stan turned around and looked the boy directly in the eyes.

“Whatever happens, happens. But for now we’re stickin’ together, got it?”

The small boy bobbed his head up and down almost fearfully, brown eyes large.

Within an hour of driving, the other child was also asleep.

 

They were much quieter when they were asleep.


End file.
